


Harder to Love

by Calliopinot



Series: Do You Feel This Electricity? [1]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Double Entendres, Bedroom Antics, M/M, Rough Sex, Skwigelf v. Feelings, Some lighthearted goofiness, Toki can't handle emotions either y'all, dumb drabble that got really long, with an exceedingly long flashback too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopinot/pseuds/Calliopinot
Summary: Skwisgaar needs his flesh stripped raw to lay bare his true feelings.





	Harder to Love

Toki’s expression was laced with pity.

_Why can’t you just let me love you?_

It hadn’t been long since they started sleeping together, but a pattern had quickly emerged. Toki relished the feeling of completion he got from Skwisgaar filling him. For his part, Skwisgaar was always game to have his dick sheathed in something or other, so this arrangement suited him just fine.

Until it didn’t.

 

***

 

The first time Toki made love to him was just that. Sensual and passionate and slow and emotionally wrought – all the things Skwisgaar Skwigelf had spent nearly 30 years divorcing from the act of sex.

It fucked him up. That was the only way he could describe it, when he attempted to describe it. That one night could have such an indelible impact on how he thought of himself as a sexual – and indeed, as an emotional – being was more than he could handle, at least in any healthy fashion.

When 72 straight hours of inebriation, courtesy of Pickles’ wild and wonderful medicine cabinet, failed to do the trick, he oscillated to asceticism, declining food, intoxicants, and company of all kinds for three more days.

But it wasn’t until day seven, when Skwisgaar refused even his six-stringed lifeblood, that Toki realized things needed to be addressed.

 

“What the fucks ams wrong wit’ you?” Toki was nothing if not tactful.

“What do you mean?” In his state of self-deprived weakness, Skwisgaar couldn’t muster the venom such a rude query deserved in response. Instead he lay prostrate on his bed, heavy-lidded eyes barely registering the fuming Norseman gesticulating at him with a shiny black Gibson in hand.

“I _means_ you ain’ts eats notin, you ain’ts seens no ones, ands now Charles say you don’ts wants to play you’s guitar!” He huffed around, searching for his point. “Yous gots to practice you’s guitar, Skwisgaar.”

The Swede rolled lazily onto his side, chuckling at the reversal. Toki's heart skipped at the sound – and at the sight of long blond, unbrushed locks haphazardly falling over bare shoulders. Knee bent toward the ceiling, one hand lazily pawing the soft white fur; with just a subtle shift in position he reclaimed all the power in the room, like the Roman emperor he so resembled at the moment.

“Ams that really whys you comes here, littles Toki?” Skwisgaar made a show of sweeping back his hair before stretching out one long arm toward his bandmate. For the guitar or for Toki’s hand; he didn’t care which – in his mind this would end the same way, but he was curious which Toki would offer. He was always curious about the effects of his seductive process.

“Fucks you, Skwisgaar.” Toki rolled his eyes and dropped the Explorer unceremoniously to the floor, but moved no further. Not the reaction he’d hoped for, but Skwisgaar could work with this.

“Okay,” he said, rolling onto his back and slipping off his pants in one fluid motion.

“What?!”

“You says, ‘Fucks you.’ I says, ‘Okay.’ Sos come ons, don’ts bes a tease.”

Toki held firm the hands that had begun fumbling with his waistband. Skwisgaar chanced a glance up at his would-be seducee’s face. He didn’t expect the horrified expression. Skwisgaar wasn’t quite so sure he could work with this.

“Ams dat what dis ams all about?” Toki laughed softly, taking a seat on the bed, a safe-groping-distance away from the confused Swede. “Ah, I shouldn’tsa comes here wits da guitar. I’s sorries.”

“What--?”

“Look, Skwisgaar, Toki amn’ts an idiot.”

“Ja you ams.”

“Okay, but nots abouts dis.” His index finger flicked between the two of them. “You don’t t’inks I notice you avoidin’ Toki fors whole week afters de last times we, um…”

“Fucks?” Skwisgaar offered. “You cans says it, Toki.”

“Makes love,” Toki corrected, shaking his head at the wince that phrase elicited in the other man. “Sees? You has a problem wit’ the way I does it?”

Well, that could make for a pretty convenient escape route.

Skwisgaar feigned resignation, as though he were, well, screwing up the courage to tell his partner he was bad in bed.

“Wells, Tokis… you sees… it ams doesn’t reallies works for me, you knows?" He heaved out an exaggerated sigh, for good measure. "I don’ts know. Maybes it ams your dick? Doesn’t reallies does it for me, in de gettin’s offs deparkment.” An empathetic hand on Toki’s shoulder really sold the point.

“Oh.”

_Fuck_. But if he was going to spare his own feelings, someone’s had to get hurt…

“So ams that why you screams Toki’s name when you comes, and dens cries for ten minutes afters?”

Toki was sure he’d had lollipops the exact shade of red Skwisgaar’s face was turning.

“Fuckings dildoes!” A very naked Swedish guitarist launched himself at the now giggling Norwegian, throwing him onto his back. Toki laughed through the loss of breath, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“Ams Skwisgaar’s goes to crybabies house for vacations?”

“Fucks you!” Skwisgaar made to pin Toki bodily to the mattress, but the giddy young man wasn’t especially in the mood to pretend he wasn’t twice as strong as his elder.

“I tolds you, Skwisgaar,” he started, gripping the Swede’s thin wrists with one hand and swiftly reversing their positions. “Toki amn’ts an idiot.”

He crossed Skwisgaar’s arms over his chest sarcophagus style then sat on them. “Now, you ams goings to apolgesac for makings fun of Toki’s dick, thens you ams goings to gets over you’s dumb bullshit problems.”

“Fucks you, asshole,” the Swede croaked.

“Neeiiii, I fucks _you_ asshole!” Toki devolved into a fresh set of giggles at his goddamn brilliant wordplay. “And den you gets all buttshurt!”

Desperate though he was to remain insolent and pouty, Skwisgaar felt the corners of his mouth twitch up and the tension in his shoulders abate – slightly. There was still the snickering mass of rhythm guitarist to attend to.

“Eugh…”

“Ams you gonna bes nice?” Toki slid his hips down Skwisgaar’s body, freeing his arms. Skwisgaar wasted no time in slipping them around the other man’s neck, responding only with a noncommittal grunt.

“And ams you gonna says sorries?” Toki slid further still, grinding his pelvis on Skwisgaar’s bare crotch. The tortuously slow rhythm earned another grunt, albeit far less ambiguous than the first.

“Says soooories…” Toki added a tongue swirling around Skwisgaar’s nipple for effect.

“Sorries!” the Swede eked out, hips bucking reflexively into Toki’s.

It was all Toki wanted, for now anyway. His coy teasing gradually transformed into something more wanton, and it wasn’t long before the pair collapsed into a sweaty, satisfied heap.

 

***

 

But that was then.

Toki smiled ruefully at the memory as he looped the belt around Skwisgaar’s ankles, cursing himself for not taking more seriously the opportunity to confront Skwisgaar’s very real problems with intimacy.

“You wants it hards, huh?” Toki strained with the effort to keep the pain out of his voice. Skwisgaar nodded feverishly, too far gone to pick up on the cues.

Toki finished wrapping the Swede’s belt around his feet, securing them hip width apart. He fingered the skull buckle with an inaudible sigh before ducking under, hoisting the man’s legs and plowing in to the hilt.

Inarticulate groans met his thrusts, but Toki was in no mood for silence himself.

“Dis what you wants, ja?!” He breathed into Skwisgaar’s face, capturing his wild eyes as he bent him in half. “You wants me to fucks you raw?”

“Ja! Fucks, yes!”

He wanted to ask, _Why?_ but now was not the time, not that he was sure he would ever find it. The tears welling up in his lover’s eyes would have stopped him cold, anyway.

Instead, he merely bowed his head and increased his pace, eager to just be done with it. With all of it.

_I can’t do this anymore_. He dug his teeth into Skwisgaar’s collarbone, the better to bite back the lump rising in his throat.  _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t._

“Oh god, Toki…”

His rhythm faltered along with his resolve, at hearing the desperate whisper from above. _Fuck_.

“Says it agains.”

“Toki…” Between the clenched jaw and cascade of tears he barely choked out the word, grasping blindly at strained biceps and brunet hair in attempt to convey everything behind it.

“Again. Please.” They were hurtling toward the finish line, and they both knew it.

“Toki… ohh! Oh god! TOKI!”

As his own name rang out he felt the intensity of Skwisgaar’s orgasm in the trembling mass of bones and flesh beneath him. His own followed in short order, wave after wave of endorphins and shame crashing into him. That his body still derived such lewd pleasure from this increasingly violent exercise turned his stomach. The feeling was intensified by the faint red streaks he saw when he pulled out of the sobbing mess now at his side.

“Skwisgaar, fuckings hell. I can’t—” He was halted by a surprisingly firm hand on his forearm. Looking over, he saw Skwisgaar’s face twisted not in pain or agony but in… joy?

“Skwisgaar?! What de fucks, ams you—”

“Shuts up a godsdamned minute, Tokis!” His wide smile and silent laughter removed all venom from the remark.

“But what ams you—”

“I loves you, Toki.”

Skwisgaar rolled onto his side – slight wince quickly replaced by another goofy grin – to face his stunned paramour. “I saids I loves you, Tokis. See? Ams, how does you calls it, happies cryings.” Still, nothing.

“Jaaa. I, Skwisgaar Skwigelf, Gods of de Guitar and, uh, de Mountain Snows, loves you, dumb dildoes Toki Wartooth.”

Dumb dildoes Toki Wartooth was indeed dumb. He could do no more than stare, openmouthed, at the man he was only moments earlier about to dump.

So Skwisgaar decided to try a different tack. Taking both of Toki’s hands in his, he would attempt what he’d practiced for longer than he cared to admit.

“Toki, _jeg elsker deg_.”

_På norsk_ , it finally hit home. At last Toki’s glazed-over eyes focused on Skwisgaar’s, but with a frown.

“Why you says it likes dat?”

“What? Likes whats?”

“Likes a drunks fuckings yodeler who ams swallowings a cat!”

“Nots my faults dat’s whats you’s dildoes lankwhich sound like!” And besides, the whole reason he practiced so damn much was so he _wouldn’t_ sound like he was making fun of the Norwegian tongue, as was his wont.

“Waits a minute, waits a minute. I tells you—” he counted on his fingers— “t’ree and one halfs time I loves you and alls you ams does ams bitch abouts mine accents?”

“ _Norsk er det vakreste språket i verden og må respekteres_ _Skwisgaar_ ," Toki said gravely. " _Jeg elsker deg osgå._ ”

Skwisgaar followed _most_ of that. But what was really important was the last part. He didn’t anticipate feeling such sheer  _relief_  at hearing those words spoken back to him, even in silly, lilting Norwegian. 

Satisfied, dare he say happy, Skwisgaar curled up like a sleepy puppy beside Toki. His little Toki, who wrapped his arms around the prideful, vulnerable guitarist.

He would never let go again.

**Author's Note:**

> I miiiight make this into a series, dumb little episodes about two fictional guitarists who are bad at relationships. Each smuttier than the last! (*not a guarantee*)


End file.
